Strictly Business
by xoxxSweetNothings
Summary: John Cena is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women’s champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart? R
1. A Done Deal

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: Hey everyone! I'm back on a new account, and returning with a fresh new idea. Yup, after much contemplation, I've finally established my Trish/Cena pair yet again (what can I say, I adore that pair). Please remember to send a review after you're done reading! Tell me what you think; I have an awesome story in the works!

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**Chapter 1 – A Done Deal**

Delusional. That's all he was.

With a hint of anxiety mixed into what was sure to be a roller coaster of emotions, it was beyond concealment how utterly bewildered John Cena had looked as he walked down corridor after corridor backstage. Why had Mr. McMahon specifically called on him for a "little word"? He hadn't instigated anything more than a polite conversation with others backstage time after time, he was sure of it.

Yet after all, maybe Vince had caught on to the fact that he occasionally left the building early after his night's match was over. Still, was that something he could get in trouble for?

"Oomph." John grunted as he inadvertently bumped into a nearby table, pondering over all the possible reasons why Vince would want to see him personally. It was nearly never that Mr. McMahon, being the workaholic that he was, would call onto an individual on the roster for a _personal _meeting. Only on occasion did he speak to an entire group of wrestlers, but surely not just one sole person one-on-one.

Was it his own wrestling? John knew he had taken the easy route for the past few weeks, but this was only due to a more painful hip injury than he hadn't expected. But to get fired over an injury was ridiculous.

It was then that he realized the door so prominently labeled 'MCMAHON'; so seemingly quick had he reached the office. The slightest trickle of sweat had formed on his tight forehead, which he soon wiped off with haste. With a sigh John knocked, opening the door after hearing an ever most defiant yell to come in.

An unfamiliar sight the McMahon office was. Only so rarely had John seen the layer from which Vincent Kennedy McMahon so often took residence to. Plainly furnished it was, with nothing more as a black leather couch pushed into a corner accompanying a large oak desk with wooden chairs so neatly organized around it.

Yes, this was his death wish, John silently commended. Why else would he be called into the dungeon of McMahon?

"Ah, Mr. Cena, I've been expecting you." Mr. McMahon had said without even the slightest glance.

Oh, great. He's been waiting.

"Mr. McMahon, good to see you," was the only reply John could say after nervously trying to determine his boss's state of mood.

It was then that Mr. McMahon finally looked at John Cena himself through his thick glasses. There they finally met on the subconscious level; never had John felt such apprehension in his life.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat already."

Almost immediately had John dropped his body into the nearest chair, not even daring to break his gaze on Vince. No, he had to be as respectful as possible in the face of the beast.

John watched as Mr. McMahon slowly discarded his spectacles into a beige case, then laying it flat onto hiss desk next to a horde of papers. "So Vince, Stephanie gave me the message that you wanted to talk?"

"Yes, of course." Mr. McMahon eyes Cena, who ever so apparently squirmed in his seat. "Don't be nervous, Cena. You've been working with me for well over a year, and you're still under the impression that I'll give you hell? Loosen up!"

John stiffened at the short lecture. "Yes, Mr. McMahon."

After several moments of silence, Vince had finally let out a sigh before he started. "John, the reason why I've asked you here," he paused, rearranging the papers laid out on his work area. "Let me just start by saying that this, in no way, puts your career in any sort of danger." He watched as the WWE World Champion exhaled in what was sure to be relief. "But this is still business, and I need you to promise me that what is said in this room will stay confidential, and will not be repeated outside of this office."

He nodded. "Nothing will be repeated, Vince. You have my word." John held his hand up in promise, and watched as the boss rubbed his face in what was sure to be fatigue.

"I, uh. Hmm, how should I put this…" He mumbled incredulously. "I've been thinking… No, over the past months I…uh…"

"…Mr. McMahon?"

Vince stared poorly at the wall, confound in his lack of words. It was only after several more moments of silence that he finally glanced back and said, "I need a huge favor, John. That's what I've called you here for."

John stared dubiously. "No problem, Vince. Just tell me what you need, want, whatever it is."

He disputably nodded. "Just so recently have I gotten reports of, how should I put this, _wayward_ behavior of one of our WWE divas."

"Can I ask, who in particular?"

Vince eyed the champion. "Trish Stratus." He stood up and began to pace, ready to start full explanation. "Whether you know it or not, John, Trish is probably the best we've got in this business so far. In terms of both in-ring skills as well as the ability to connect with our audiences, she undeniably is excellent and vital to the survival of the WWE." He stopped in his paces, examining a most intricate of paintings hanging on the white wall. Looking back at Cena, he resumed, "But for the past several weeks, I've gotten word from some of your peers of ill-disciplined behavior on Ms. Stratus's part. Do you recall any instances of this?"

"Vaguely, but yes, I can remember some times Vince."

"Well, I would hate to see a beauty like Trish fall in what is surely the peak of her career because of behavioral issues." With dominance, he sat back into the chair, coming face with John. "Wouldn't you agree?"

He stared back suspiciously, though curious as to what Mr. McMahon was ultimately leading him into. "Yeah, I don't think anybody would want to see somebody like Trish Stratus depart in any way…"

"Surely. But this is where I need your help, John."

"Under what are the circumstances, Vince?"

Mr. McMahon stared down at his desk, contemplating his words. Finally had he again began, "After managing you for well over three years, I've come to the point where it's almost guaranteed that I can trust you. That's why you're sitting here at this moment.

"As a peer of Trish Stratus, I need you, John, to in a sense rehabilitate her ways. She isn't exactly making the right decisions as of this moment, and I want you to help her change in whatever way so that her career will not be on the line, John."

"What exactly would I have to do, Vince?" John replied, the skeptical tone increasingly evident in his tone of voice. "You're making it sound as if I have to follow her every waking second and change what she's doing wrong."

"That is, really, what I'm entrusting you to do John."

"Excuse me?"

"Just basic instinct. I want you to stay close to her and make sure she doesn't fall over the edge. Just stay long enough to ensure she is safe each day. When time allows, start to sway her in the right direction. It's as easy as that. Soon enough will she be neutral as all the others on the roster, and your job will be done. And a paycheck is in the mix too John, if you're interested…"

John Cena took the time to digest the words that Vince McMahon had just said. What exactly was he implying? The rehabilitation of a wayward blonde bombshell? And in terms of constant monitoring? He was still very hesitant…

"How do you think I could do this, Mr. McMahon?"

"Be discreet, John. That's the key." He sat back in his chair, almost signaling a near end to this ever so unusual meeting. "You're the only person I think can pull this off, John. We need Trish, and absolutely cannot afford to lose her due to ill behavior. The future of this business lies in your hands, so I need you to promise that you'll do this." He waited as again the office became silent.

John sighed. "Alright, Vince. You've got my word. But only for you McMahon. Only for you."

"We've got a deal then." Mr. McMahon said as both stood in unison, significantly marking the start in a certain World Heavyweight Champion's quest in chasing an ever so vivacious Trish Stratus.

* * *

**A/N**: And with that, I've laid down the fundamentals for my story. Like it so far? Please tell me what you think and comment! Updates are weekly, so I'll be continuing soon. Happy Easter everyone! 


	2. Influential Encounters

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: Hello all! Hope you had a wonderful Easter if you celebrate; I had an absolutely amazing one. I honestly didn't expect an update so soon, but I guess that works out for those waiting for an update. I want to thank those who reviewed the first chapter – reviews are what ultimately motivate me to continue to update. So keep sending them in, I love to read all your thoughts and opinions. Five is all right for now, but I expect more (hahaha, just kidding. I shouldn't lecture you all on reviewing). But still, I most certainly hope that you all will send in a review. I'll stop rambling now and let you start reading. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review when you're done!

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**Chapter 2 – Influential Encounters**

The San Francisco nightspot was excessively clamorous in sound, with many people seemingly crowded into the slew of bright lights and loud music. The bass had been turned up in what was sure to be its loudest, creating a heart-stopping effect to those on the move to find more and more to socialize with.

Trish Stratus had watched it all through lackluster eyes. It had been a seemingly endless day after spending all throughout the afternoon and well into the evening at the arena taping that week's RAW, along with vignettes that would be used later throughout the week. Seemingly the entire roster had immediately set out to the near club by their hotel after the night's taping was over – the most withdrawn of the roster had appeared as well. Even the precocious Ric Flair had made his attendance very evident, as he made uproarious conversation to many with drink in hand.

Yet somehow it seemed that everyone was trying a little _too_ hard to have a good time. The way each and every movement was overly enthusiastic, the way a simple show of laughter was exaggeratedly loud. The way their high spirits had seemed flat-out forced.

Just like Trish Stratus.

There she sat in a dark corner in a booth, staring across the table as a devious Randy Orton had grinned back at her through those gorgeous brown eyes. It was undoubtedly clear that Randall Keith Orton was handsome. The type of handsome as the most illustrious of movie stars were. Unfortunately, he had long-since known that. It was just a state of fact for him.

He was the type of person that was not told 'no' to very often. And when such as rare occasion as that occurred, he did not take 'no' for an answer. Especially on this date with Trish – he was clearly unhappy about her refusal to go to his hotel room with him. He had taken the time to make this evening what he considered 'special', and had expected a clear return for his "investment" from Trish.

That was, of course, whether she liked it or not.

_Oh, why had she even agreed to this date with Randy Orton?_ But then again, Trish could answer that for herself. She wearily thought of how bored and lonely she had felt. One more solitary night with nothing more as a person to talk to would, she was sure, drive her completely insane. She had thought that Randy Orton would provide a clear distraction, that is, until she had sat down and realized it may have been better to be alone once again that to spend an evening with a jerk like him.

Trish resisted the urge to completely stand and turn away as Randy leaned over the circular table and rushed so close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath. She winced at the notion.

"C'mon, Trish," Randy whispered with an overly embellished tone of voice. "It's getting late. How 'bout we go back to my room, have a drink or something?" He smiled determinedly as he leaned back into his chair with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He watched as Trish stared back dubiously.

_Gosh, he must be drunk_. Trish thought as she watched him gulp down what was sure to be his fourth drink. So soon did she force a smile onto her already dismayed countenance, along with a nervous chuckle.

"No, I don't think it's that late yet, Randy," Trish replied, attempting to sound as cheerful as possible without blowing her cover. "Besides, everyone from the taping is still here. If you'll excuse me though, I have to use the ladies' room."

As quickly as she could did Trish depart the table and advanced towards the exit door. Not for another second did she want to spend with such an arrogant monster as Randy Orton.

It was then that she entered the empty restroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Horrible. She stared at her disheveled blonde hair, which had surely come about due to her inability to stop playing with the strands during the many times from which she ceased to listen to Randy ramble during their date. Helplessly, she took a comb out of her black purse and combed the knots away.

What was she going to do? Leave at this moment, maybe? No, that definitely wouldn't work out. If she did leave, that would leave Randy looking for her. A possibly _angry_ Randy that may set out to find her and do god knows what. Scary thought.

Then again, she could always return to Randy, claim a sudden illness, then leave. Randy surely wouldn't want to handle a sick girl, prone to throwing up and all the works. _Good one Trish, I'll just tell him I've thrown up nonstop while in the bathroom. He'll leave me then!_

After once again checking her appearance in the wide mirror, Trish quickly left. Never so excitedly had she anticipated seeing what look would come about Randy's face when she would claim an ugly illness. Yes, this was sure to be fun.

Again did she enter the excessively strident club, almost immediately spotting Randy sitting alone in the corner. Why did something so suddenly feel different? She stopped and stared as an undeniably conniving smile came about his face as he gazed around the colorful room. Never had Trish seen such an expression from anyone in her life – it was enough to escalate her suspicion to an all-time high.

Ever so cautiously did Trish approach the table and again sit. Why did apprehension have such a way to worry her so greatly?

"Trish, before you say anything," Randy started in what Trish inferred was a neutral tone of voice. "I want to say that I'm sorry," he grinned. "Judging by how weary you look right now, I know it wasn't right of me to annoy you in any way. I don't want any hazy air between us, and I would really appreciate it if we could stay friends."

Trish eyed him suspiciously. A sudden change in character? And in such cocky a man as Orton? _Hell, who am I to judge Randy here? He's actually being someone else rather than his lusty self, so why not just take it?_ She gave a sincere nod, thoroughly accepting his sudden apology despite her still beating conscience.

"Then let's toast to friends, Trish." Randy raised his glass with a grin, watching Trish do the same in unison.

After a clink of two glasses, both took a sip of their drinks. Randy put his glass down and slyly glanced over at his partner. "Drink up, Trish. It's all on me." Randy said gleefully as he chuckled, watching as she took yet another gulp. "Have more Trish, it's good_ now isn't it_?"

Trish noticed the difference in Randy's voice. It was no longer open, friendly, not even the least bit pleasant as it was just a minute ago. It was forceful, _demanding_.

* * *

John Cena sat alone at a small table, aimlessly playing with the straw sitting in his near-gone glass of Coke. All day he had seemingly spent "watching" Trish Stratus, from the start of the day's tapings until this very moment from which he sat alone. Nonetheless, he clearly didn't understand the point of this classified "mission" Vince had sent him on. In all honesty, after his observations John hadn't noticed anything rowdy going on Trish's part. Ridiculous, that's all this was.

Over the duration of the entire day, John had reasoned that Trish would be too caught up in her work with RAW that free time would almost be unattainable. She would then, by reason, refrain from ill behavior due to limited time. From what he had observed, his reasoning was correct, and it was almost pointless of him to even keep an eye on Trish during tapings.

Yet this was a much different setting – such an open venue as a club would almost call for trouble on anyone's part, especially Trish. Which was why John did not surrender his mission; this was surely a time from which he had to keep an eye on her. A particularly close one, judging how close a time she seemed to have had spent with Randy Orton across the room. He sighed – this was a hard job after all.

"What's on your mind, John?" a wavy-haired blonde asked as she sat down across from him. "I see you've been staring off into space. Very…productive," she said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, Ashley. I didn't see you coming" John said blankly with just one glance before staring back down at his now empty cup.

"Of course you didn't." She stared, as he didn't so much has look back up at her. "What's wrong now? Please don't say I have to play guidance counselor again."

"It's nothing Ash. I've had a busy day and I'm just tired."

"So you choose to spend your time in a noisy club?" She sent as questioning glare as he looked back at her. "No, I didn't think so. Now as your friend, tell me, what's up with you?"

Again did John stare blankly back at Ashley as she glanced back at him with a most inquiring of looks he had ever seen. There she sat – his long-time friend from which he could almost speak anything to.

Yet the words of Vince McMahon kept replaying incessantly in his head at the same time – _what is said in this room will stay confidential, and will_ not_ be repeated_. Oh, how he wished he could tell her. Was there any way he could hide Mr. McMahon's orders without blowing it completely? And to disobey an order from Mr. McMahon would most definitely be career suicide for himself. There was no choice left but to lie.

"I've, uh, been having problems." John soon started. If he was going to lie, hell, he'd have fun with it.

Ashley sat back in her chair and stared as he nervously twiddled his thumbs in what was sure to be disarray. "Let me guess, relationship issues?"

"More like a relationship is non-existent at this point in my life," John had soon stated. Rather than blatantly lying, the situation had inadvertently converted to the solid truth – John Cena and the notion of steady girlfriend had been omitted for quite some time. And not for one second did he like it at all.

"Tell me Ashley, when can you really tell if she's the one?" Might as well get his personal questions answered while they were on the topic, John had reasoned.

"Hmm, lemme think for a second," she stretched her arms out as if preparing for an extensive lecture. Staring dreamily at the air, she again started, "It's just that feeling you get, almost indescribable, if I'm being honest. When you love someone unconditionally. When you can see yourself having a future with that person. When you can ask yourself, will this be forever, and answer without any type of hesitation at all. That's when you know they're the one." She sighed. "Takes somebody who's already experienced it to know it, so you can trust me John."

John grinned as he added in playful disdain, "That was so beautiful, Ashley!"

She teasingly punched his arm in response to his lighthearted ridicule. "You mock me now, Mr. Cena, but I'll be on the sidelines watching when you fall in love yourself, saying '_I told you so_!' " She laughed warmly. "What a thought, my little Johnny falling in love!"

He finally laughed, eliminating any type of gloominess so previously in the air. "Well, you've found yours already, I'm still waiting for mi–"

Something had caught his eye. Almost immediately did he notice a blonde head from across the room crash down onto a small table, suddenly unconscious.

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**A/N**: Chapter 2 is now finished! Okay, this is the part where you review (click the button this minute!). Oh, quick question – do any of you want a secondary pairing with Ashley? If so, I need ideas as to who her love is… Look for an update in about a week or so! 


	3. At Least For Now

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: I'm back for another update, everyone! And let me tell you, I'm so excited to get this story on the move. I have some ideas brewing in my head that I plan to put into action very soon. This chapter's just a continuation of the night, because I thought it would we weird to continue a new day on the same chapter. So this is all for now. Please send in a review after reading – they absolutely make my day. Enjoy this chapter everyone, please tell me what you think!

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**Chapter 3 – At Least For Now**

John stared appallingly as he tried to register what he had just seen in disarray. A distant blonde across the room. Suddenly plummeting down onto a small table as if unconscious. _Oh no_. What if something tragic had just happened to her? Never again would he be able to face Mr. McMahon, knowing that he may have been the ultimate cause of a certain diva's fate. He stared in shock as not even for one small second did Trish Stratus move. Something had gone terribly wrong…

"…John?" He had hardly even recognized the presence of Ashley sitting right there in front of him, watching his every move. "You look like you've just seen a ghost, and it's really starting to scare the shit out of me…" She stared back in disbelief as the face in front of her became increasingly pale; falling deeper and deeper into whatever battle he was fighting.

He watched helplessly; as seemingly nobody else in the packed room had even taken notice to the fact that there in a dark corner laid a woman out cold. There he sat frozen himself, watching as a manipulative Randy Orton gawked down at the face before him. Though his solid frame of a back was to John, he could almost picture the sly grin pasted on Randy's face, snickering as though he had made such an achievement.

It was then that Randy brusquely stood, carrying a lifeless Trish so that all that could be seen was her blank face over his shoulder. He couldn't just sit there and watch. He had to do something. Save her.

"I'll talk to you later, Ash." John said ever so quickly as he stood, towering over the petite blonde. His short, "I've got business to take care of," was barely heard by a bewildered Ashley Massaro, for almost immediately did the champion depart the table rapidly in high pursuits.

"Guess I'll never know what he's up to these days." She turned and gazed as her friend outwardly pushed through the crowd standing before him. He was heading towards the exit, and a possible horde of trouble as well.

* * *

He walked as fast as he could through the mass of people standing around the vivid room. The shouts of greeting from those he passed were barely heard in his mind as well as the blasting music – all were undoubtedly subliminal thoughts at this particular moment in time. All he could think of was the pure reason of this current chase: Trish Stratus.

Finally had he understood what Vince had meant by "wayward behavior". Admittedly, he was not at a clear understanding when Vince had noted of ill actions of Trish Stratus. All this time, John had trivially assumed that Trish had just been picking small fights with others, or even arguing from time to time. But now he knew. It was not just the fact that Trish was inwardly hostile, but had no sense of direction at all. That just had to be it.

He winced as a cold gust of air hit him as he advanced outside. So soon had he forgotten the blatant notion that though spring was the season from which warmth was to come, nights had still carried the fallen remnants of winter with it as well. He guarded his lower abdomen as the wind had again blown, seemingly harder this time around.

It was a clear night nevertheless, and the stars became visibly clear in the dark nocturne of the night. The moon had lit the solid brick pathway from which led to the hotel from which almost all of the crew were to stay at. Surrounding the path were the makings of a park, an idea to entice those tourists to both the hotel and surrounding buildings. A person would inevitably have to pass this small park area to get to the adjacent areas near the hotel, including the club from which John Cena was just at.

At this time of the night, the small park was apparently empty of any visitors, excluding a distant figure. Not so far ahead did John see a tall outline ahead of the path. Randy Orton.

"Stop right there, Orton!" John yelled, increasing his pace to a steady jog after seeing him not so far ahead. It was not long before he had reached his foe, who had turned around just as he had arrived next to him.

Randy stared back incredulously, still carrying an unconscious Trish in his arms. "Cena," he started innocently. "What brings you here at this time of night?"

"Don't be a smartass, Orton." John had taken the slightest glance at the woman lying lifeless in his arms. This was bad. "I saw what happened at the club. Put her down, Randy."

He had stared back defiantly, as if a stubborn child refusing to give up something as little as a toy. He didn't budge even the slightest bit, but just stared back at an ever so heated John Cena.

"I said put her down already!" The level of anger had elevated to an all-time high, if not already exhibited in his harsh tone of voice. Enough to vex Randy to the point where he abruptly sat Trish down on a nearby bench.

After doing so did he crossly glare back down at John. "Why do you even care the least bit about Trish Stratus, huh?"

Plainly enough, he shot back saying, "I would hate to see her hurt by such a bastard like you, Orton." Again did he glance back at the woman out cold on the bench. "What'd you do to her?"

Silence became increasingly clear. "I don't have to answer to you, Cena."

"Well then, I guess you're not aware that I can end your career once I say even the slightest word to Vince. He's been wary of you from the start, Orton, and won't even think twice once he hears what I have to say."

Aha. He'd gotten him there with the unconcealed truth. Randy had been noted for his terrible backstage behavior, and had been noted various times to Vince for his deeds. Yet another report as this would surely send Randy's career out the door. But did he want to be that person to do that? Before departing the business, Randy would surely have a plan of revenge before leaving. Possibly fatal.

"I'll make a deal with you, Orton," he soon resolved, not wanting any later ramifications to face. "Leave Trish alone, I won't squeal to McMahon. Got it?"

Randy crossed his arms, and smugly taking one last glimpse at Trish. "Go ahead, take her, John. I didn't want her anyhow."

And with that did Randy turn around and walk the opposite direction back to the club. But only seconds after did he turn around, and with all his strength punch Cena in his stomach before running off.

Immediately did he double over, grunting in pain. What a coward, always wanting the last shot. Excruciatingly did he pin both his arms over his abdomen in a helpless attempt to diminish the agonizing pain. "Fuck you, Randy Orton, fuck you…"

* * *

Only several long moments after was John able to carry Trish the entire length of the pathway all the way into his own second-floor hotel room. A tough job it soon proved to be as the lingering pain still in his lower abdomen ceased to leave. He had carried her through the stairs in both arms, not wanting to risk being seen at this point of the night. Preconceived notions would most definitely run high at the sight of the WWE champion carrying an illustrious Trish Stratus into his own hotel room.

He hadn't had any choice at all but to have her stay in his own room. At this point, all of his peers on the roster were still partying well into the night, and would not be back until much later. Even then, John would have the time consuming job of tracking down whomever Trish was rooming with, or if she even chose to room with another diva at all.

No, he didn't want to take that route at all.

John sighed as he stood in front of his own door, trying to figure out any way to slide his card into the door without dropping Trish altogether. What a job this already was, and this was still technically the first day following Vince's orders.

Somehow he had managed to open his door and enter a fresh new room. Tediously did he switch on the central light. Oh, how tiresome he felt at that moment. After spending a day doing nothing more than watching a certain diva and keeping out of trouble, the exasperation he felt at this point was unimaginable.

At that moment did he lay her on the bed with a sigh. Sitting on the nearby wooden chair, he watched her in silence. Just how innocent she looked. So vulnerable.

Only then did he reach out to tuck a strand of hair that had come loose behind her ear. Ever so gently did he run the backs of his fingers across her soft cheek. Tender strokes that felt so smooth against the rough of his hand. He could have sworn that he saw a slight flutter of her eyes, but then again, this entire night was like a whole dream in its entirety.

So slowly did he pull back his arm after lightly running his hand through her shiny blonde hair. "You don't know how much trouble you are, Trish Stratus," he whispered softly. "But at least for now, you're safe with me."

* * *

**A/N**: Finished! Sorry if this chapter's short, but I wanted to get in an update for those waiting. I'll be busy this week, but I'll update next weekend or maybe even earlier (depends how you all review!). So I won't hold you back any longer, send in a review! 


	4. Reality Check

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: I'm back yet again, everyone! And I want to firstly apologize for the _extremely_ late update (yes, I admit, it's been about two weeks). I've been extremely busy as far as work, studying for finals, and everything else. I had a show to perform at a few days ago, and that took some serious prep time. But if it helps, I've been beating myself up day by day because I know a lot of you are waiting for an update. So here I am now! I don't want to ramble, so I'm just going to remind you all that after you read, send in a review. And I mean it – they absolutely make my day and give me an idea of how you all like it so far. I've made this chapter extra long in the hopes to make up for the late update, so enjoy!

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**Chapter 4 – Reality Check**

Peaceful.

That was her first coherent feeling, even if subliminal in the depths of her silent reverie. Cocooned even, as subconsciously she could feel great warmth succumbing her every bodily feature. Yes, this was paradise. And for a slight moment, a mere second even, she felt safe.

Never in such a long time had she felt such peace and security in her life. Ever since that one moment long ago, her heart had been eternally guilt ridden, eventually escalating to the point from which self-worth was non existent. Every ounce of personal value was gone the second after that dreadful moment, and she had long since known it. Of course, there were those slight instances of hope time after time, but never again did she believe in the notion of peace and security.

Was she really awake, or was this just a mere fantasy? If she was dreaming, she didn't want to wake at any point in time. This felt so good, so serene…

But unfortunately, the smallest amount of reality had already set into her peaceful thoughts, liberating any previous feelings of security she so previously had.

It was then that she remembered it all.

The loud and overly crowded club. Bright flashing lights. All her peers on the roster partying there. She gasped. Her date with Randy Orton.

She brusquely rolled over onto her back as the night's events had inevitably replayed in her mind, her earlier dreams so quickly killed by this nightmare. Trying to get away from Randy Orton. Coming back from the bathroom to Randy just to have her world crash down on her in merely a second…

Trish's eyes popped open as her breathing became increasingly heavy. She shockingly stared up at a plain white ceiling. Immediately did she sit up, her eyes adjusting to her dimly lit surroundings. Then she noticed. _This wasn't her room!_

And for yet another moment of Trish Stratus's life did her world come crashing down on her again.

As her eyes adjusted, she quickly scanned the entire room, partially lit by the sunlight creeping through the edges of the beige curtain from which concealed the window. Surely it was morning already. With wide eyes she saw everything up to the worn duffel bag and black suitcase thrown into the corner. No, this definitely wasn't her own hotel room…but how did she get here?

_Oh no_. What did that bastard Randy Orton do to her? Ever so rapidly did Trish kick off the bed sheets so tightly wrapped around her, speedily jumping off the king sized bed.

"Ouch," a male voice grunted.

She froze as the realization that she had just stepped on a certain someone became clear. She stared down in horror at the male before her. Lying flat on a makeshift bed of towel on the floor, he rubbed his bare lower abdomen where she had inadvertently stepped on him, cursing under his breath. She couldn't help but become aware of the fact that other than a pair of boxers, the person before her was wearing nothing.

John Cena.

Her loud, "Ack," was the only noise her inner voice would allow to be heard, for she was overall speechless in her current baffled state. How did John Cena come into all of this? Again did she refer back to her thoughts to the night before, trying to recollect any single moment from which included _him_.

But it was anger that ultimately rose to the surface. "If I find for one second that you've taken advantage of me in any way, Cena, your ass'll be out of this business so fast that you'll never know what hit you." Immediately did she stand a good distance away from him, but enough so that she could make out each expression and action of his with ease.

Sluggishly he stood; still evidently unaware of what was happening. "Relax, Trish. I promise I haven't hurt you in any way.

"Promise my ass!" she loudly retorted back. "What have you done to me, John? How did I end up here, huh!"

So calmly did he gaze back at her, watching for the slightest moment as he tried to work out the best way to approach this hotheaded blonde. "Okay, first off, you need to stop screaming at me right now. Because whether you know it or not, Trish, we're not exactly on some secluded island right now. There are people all around who can well hear our talking and start speculating at any given moment."

"I don't give a-"

"Did you not hear any of the words that just came out of my mouth?" _Whoa, calm yourself down. You're gonna scare the poor girl away,_ his conscience beat. Wearily he sighed; did he have to argue this early in the day? "Now if you want any details or questions answered, I'm all open. But you'll have to compromise for now if you want to get anywhere."

Trish crossed her arms as both their gazes met. So intensely did she stare into his brown eyes. But instead of seeing a predatory gleam, or even the bit of voracity that she was so used to seeing, she witnessed something strangely different in the way he looked at her. Promise, sincerity…

"Fine," she responded in a much more modulated tone of voice.

"Good. But if you don't mind, I'd rather dress up first instead of risking a highly awkward situation."

She blushed as her inner awareness of the man standing before her escalated. "Go ahead." And with that she watched as he sauntered over to his suitcase, bending over to grab a clean pair of clothes. She stared at his lean frame, watching as a slight movement caused the muscles of his lower back to ripple…

Whoa. What was she doing? She turned her head in disdain, ashamed at the fact that she was more concerned with personal desire for that one moment when she in turn was yet to know what had really happened to her the previous night.

It was then that she noticed the large gray sweatshirt with a large University of Massachusetts logo that she had been wearing the entire time. It was an odd comfort she felt, but nevertheless, bewildered her even more as to what actually occurred the night before.

"I see you've noticed my sweatshirt, huh?" A small grin crept upon his face before he pulled a light blue t-shirt on. "It was cold last night; I didn't want you getting sick on top of it all."

_On top of it all? Does that mean something else is wrong with me?_ She slowly shut her eyes as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. What really did happen, how did she end up with _him_ at the end of the day…

"I'm thinking that you'd maybe want to get cleaned up first too?"

Trish stared down at her disheveled attire, which was much less appealing than what she could be wearing at this time. "Oh," was all that she could reply, and with that she started in for the bathroom without another word.

For the first time did she see herself in the mirror after locking the door behind her. Face to face, she saw the same solitary woman she had recognized for years now. Those jaded eyes, almost screaming for a companion. Someone to confront the terrors with, to help ease the pain of it all…

She splashed the lukewarm water onto her face, massaging her tight forehead. It was then that she distinguished the faint headache that had been lingering her since she woke. Thoughts of Randy Orton swarmed through her mind like a ghoul, haunting her once again. The dark terror made her stomach churn. Was John _really_ confirming her darkest fears come true? She couldn't go through with this, not again.

Pulling off the large sweatshirt that had been so comfortingly draped over her, she sighed. Wearily she smoothed out her wrinkled tank top from the night before, and the light cargo pants she had slept in as well. Unattractive, but this would pass for now. She didn't have time to worry about appearances. It was time to face reality.

She was hit with the lingering smell of coffee as she opened the door. She watched as he warmly motioned her to come sit while pouring two separate mugs filled with steaming coffee. Maybe this could be easy after all.

Slowly she sat on a wooden chair across from him, still very reluctant despite this warm welcome. "W-what happened to me John?" Still her inner nerves got the best of her.

Without hurry did he put his mug down and cross his arms before making direct eye contact with her. "I won't lie to you, Trish, but I have to honestly say that I don't have all the details from last night."

Her heart dropped. Was it really this bad? "Just tell me, John. I'd rather confront it all now than find out all the bits and pieces later."

He raised an eyebrow and hesitantly stared at the woman before her. The weariness was so evident in her eyes, almost as if she was hiding something… "If that's what you want, then that's completely fine by me." He leaned back into his chair. "I'm sure you know that all of us headed down to the club after the taping, right?"

Simply she nodded.

"I was sitting down with Ashley, and I can say that it wasn't very hard to find anyone. I saw you sitting with Randy early on when I got there, so I knew where you were. Maybe twenty minutes after, I see you drop down on the table so suddenly." He watched as the blonde shivered for a single moment. "I don't know what Orton did, Trish, but it was enough to knock you out."

He drugged her, she just knew it. Oh, why had she even believed Randy's false reconciliation? _Oh no._ But what else had he done to her after? Closing her eyes, she whispered, "How far did he get? Please, tell me the truth." She ended on a small hitch of breath that her last words were barely audible.

"Not very far, Trish. I followed him when he was carrying you out of there, and basically stopped him from taking it any further. But I suggest you get checked out by a doctor, Trish."

She couldn't believe it. She had come so close from falling off the edge for yet another moment in her life. Which may have had potentially destroyed her in the process. She winced as she shook her head repeatedly. Her words became a series of pained, "No, no, no…"

Suddenly she stood, unable to take any more of what could've been. John stood up just as quickly, lightly touching her shoulder in hopes of minor consoling. But just as quickly did she pull away, so greatly affected by the horror of her conscience.

"I…I need to get out of here."

John stared as she made her way across the room. "At least let me help, Trish. You can take my rental car if you want." He threw her the keychain laying on top of the wooden dresser. "Gray Ford." Maybe a little time to cool off would be good for her.

Her forced, "Thanks," was barely heard, as she was already halfway out the door. How could she let that happen to herself again? How stupid had she been? She didn't have it in herself to go through that!

Not any less angry had she made her way into the parking lot and located his rental car. She needed to get away, anywhere. At least to sort some things out on her own. The warm morning sun beat down on her face. It was a beautiful day nevertheless, but not fore even a mere second did she care. She wanted to be alone.

The engine revved as she pushed and turned the keys into the ignition. Lividly, she stepped on the gas pedal, only to find the car move in reverse and hear the roaring sound of crushed metal.

* * *

**A/N**: And that concludes this chapter! How's that as far as length to make up for the late update? So please send in a review and tell me what you think, suggestions, anything. Make my day and send one in now! I'll update in a week or so (depending on how you review!).


	5. Reencounters & Reimbursements

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: Hey everyone! It's been a while, I'll acknowledge that. But I'm back, with a clear head and nothing serious to worry about. I deeply apologize for the late update, but now that I've pushed most things aside, you'll be able to see more frequent updates. I'll make this note short, so you can all start. Please send in a review – I love reading your feedback! With that, I'll leave you to enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Reencounters & Reimbursements**

He had watched her intently the whole time. Talk about breakdown. But then again, who was he to judge her? He wasn't exactly the person who just last night, went through a potentially horrifying situation with the mischievous Randy Orton. And that didn't even include the position she had just been in, waking up completely befuddled in an entirely different room.

He sighed as he made his way across his now empty hotel room. He'd just seen her furiously exit with his keys, and boy, never had he seen Trish Stratus like that ever before in his life. Yet thinking back, he couldn't blame her. Apathetically, he lightly pounded a fist over the small wooden table next to him, just trying to make sense of the woman.

It wasn't her actions, but more so her immediate emotions after their talk that surprised him. Something was derisively different, but he couldn't quite put his hand on what it was. Something in the way she looked. He could see behind those light brown eyes; he could tell she was holding something back. They were haunted even; never before had he witnessed that in any sole person before. Yet something about Trish intrigued him, and he wanted to find out more of the woman he'd known so little of for so long.

_God, she must feel horrible right now,_ he thought. But even angrier, she must feel at this point. He paused for the slightest moment, glancing around the solitary room. "I need to check on her, see if she's alright at least," he said lowly to himself, pushing the door open.

She'd said she needed to be alone, and he'd respected her wishes in return by giving her an escape vehicle. But now, was that really the right thing to do? Maybe it was just one of those spur of the moment kind of things; whatever made him do it – he didn't know. He wanted to help her at the time, maybe that was it. But now he thought, maybe he shouldn't have let her off that easy.

He shrugged as he walked at a moderate pace down the stairway towards the hotel parking area. He would just see her off for now; make sure she got out safe. Hell, they were in the middle of San Francisco – most people could find their way around easy. This was the RAW crew's free day; he'd just see to it that she was back at the hotel at whatever time later when she came. But for now, he'd just see her off. Simple enough, right?

Soon John had reached the hotel lobby, nearing the delicate glass doors. _Just in time_, he thought, as through the windows he witnessed the blonde hurriedly climb into the gray rental car. He sauntered towards the doorway, planning to see the car drive away from the hotel immediately. But in merely seconds, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared as the Ford reared back in reverse, crashing into the speed bump and further into the wall behind it.

* * *

She squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she had realized what had just happened. It was all just a blur now at this point – the crash, crushed metal…everything, really. She couldn't move, couldn't entirely register how _this_ came about in a matter of seconds. And to top it all off, it wasn't her own rental car. It was _his_. 

_Oh no…_ What was she going to do now? She lifted her eyelids heavily, almost as if afraid to see what she had created, how bad this actually was. Wearily looking down at herself, she realized she was shaking. Violently. But as a minor consolation, she wasn't hurt the least bit. Physically, to be more exact. But mentally…well, that would be an entirely different story at this moment in time.

What would John think, or even do to her now? She winced at the possibilities. She was passed the stage of shock that she finally was able to see what damage had been done. Of course, the front of the Ford was untouched; otherwise Trish herself would have faced a far greater amount of injury in comparison to how she was now. But turning around, the view wasn't exactly _prettier_ than what the front side had offered…

The entire rear of the rental car was crushed by the force of the car against the brick wall. Dilapidated even, as she couldn't even make out what the back would have normally looked like. Thank God nobody was behind her at the time. She silently cursed as she stared with such alarm at the damages the car had undergone. This would cost a whole load of money, and she didn't even want to think about the rumors that would be spread amongst her peers.

She made a quick sound of protest as the car door was swung open and she was quickly pulled out by a strong hand. She recognized him immediately as she shot a glance towards the face that was pulling her out. John Cena.

"Are you hurt?" he asked shrilly once he managed to move her seemingly immobile body. He had grasped her wrist as he got her out of the seat, and was still holding her as she stood wide eyed before him. "Answer me, Trish, are you hurt at all?"

When she still didn't say a word, he just silently stared, assuming she was too shell-shocked to even speak. But he could see it in her eyes. She was scared. Slowly he let go his grip of her wrist, trying to find a calm approach to all of this. "I've never hit a woman in my life, Trish, and I don't plan on starting anytime soon."

Her wrist seared with warmth at the spot where he had touched her. She looked down at her wrist, as if one touch from him was enough to burn through her skin. His words were gentle, and though he seemed the slightest bit angry, she felt even the tiniest bit calmed. "I-I'm fine, I g-guess." Why did she always feel so unsettled in his presence?

He eyed her carefully. Relief is what he firstly felt at the notion that nobody was hurt, that is, if you didn't include the subject of the accident… He didn't want to frighten her in any way, but he couldn't help but scowl at the damage she had done to his _rental_ car. He silently examined the damages – it seemed as if the entire backside of the car had been destroyed by the impact of the wall. Everything else was fine.

"I-I'm so sorry, John." It took all the courage that Trish could muster to look him directly in the eye. "It's all my fault. I wasn't thinking straight." She was trembling, even more so than she had been inside the car.

When several moments had passed, and he had yet to speak another word, Trish solemnly responded again, "I'll reimburse you for all the damages, John. I'm just so sorry; I'll do anything you want me to…" She trailed off, still sensing no comments from him.

He wistfully watched her speak incessantly the whole time. Really looked at her. Those big hazel eyes…absolutely jaded after a tough night. She was tired. He was surprised at the lingering sense of longing he felt in his heart at that moment. The sense of need to learn what lay behind those jaded eyes of hers…

Damn. The last thing he really wanted from Trish Stratus was reimbursements, which was the only thing she was offering him in all actuality. He didn't want payments, didn't want any damned amount of cash to set things straight with her.

All he really wanted was for Trish to be herself.

This was the reason he found himself responding to Trish Stratus all too differently than planned.

"You say you'll do anything to pay me back?" he asked in a moderate tone, enough to give her the impression of sincerity.

"Anything you want." She gave a small nod.

He paused for a moment, as if mentally finalizing his words. "Come to dinner with me. Tonight?"

She could have flat out laughed in his face if she wasn't as scared out of her wits. And confused. "Excuse me?"

"Dinner. With me. Tonight."

She stared wide eyed right at him. Where did dinner come in all of this? "Yeah…sure. Whatever I can do." Was the uncertainty in her voice that obvious?

"Good. Stop by my room at seven sharp. I can take care of everything from here, Trish."

She nodded, so bewildered that she had not entirely registered what she had just agreed to. Hastily she walked away, trying to make sense of this morning's events. She'd just have a nice long shower; straighten her head out for tonight. _For tonight_. What a thought. As she reentered the hotel lobby, she couldn't help but wonder at John Cena's response to a decimated rental car. _Dinner!_

He'd given her the okay to leave, so why was she feeling as if things here were left unfinished?

* * *

It had taken her a good hour of jogging through the city's central park before Trish could even feel as if she had a clear head. It was late afternoon, several hours after this morning's events had inevitably occurred. During this time, Trish had spent mostly contemplating. Contemplating motives for the most part, trying to get even a slight understanding of John Cena. 

It was a fairly nice day; the shine of the sun held the promise of a beautifully warm night. Ugh, night. Something that Trish didn't want to spend even another second thinking about; a subject she had already spent a great deal of time pondering over before.

As she slowed to a stop, she readily regained her breath back. Trish had always found that exercising was the best way to relieve her tension, give her some time to think for the most part. She sat on a nearby vacant bench, taking in the cool spring air and the overall beauty of her surroundings.

What had suddenly given John the impulse to invite her to dinner as compensation for a car crash? Being completely truthful, she could not think of _anyone_ who, in a situation like this morning, would seek payment through dinner. She shook her head and sighed. Oh well. It was what it was.

"Hey, beautiful."

She looked up at the male's face, and almost immediately broke out a bright smile. "Mike! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Damn right you haven't." He gave her a quick hug before he sat down next to her on the wooden bench. "I'm on Smackdown now, remember?"

She grinned. "Of course I do." Trish was instantly lifted in spirits as she reunited with her long-time friend, Mike Mizanin. They had met years before, and bonded steadily over the years to the point where Trish could almost swear that he was her brother. That was just how close friends they were.

"What have you been up to Trish? We haven't seen each other for so long."

She sighed. "Oh, the usual. Kicking butt in the division. Thriving, at least." She gave a long look at her friend. He looked strong, healthy. And downright cheerful. "And what about you, Mr. Mizanin? What's making you so happy these days?"

"Oh, the usual," he started with the playfulness of mimicking. "Kicking major ass as a ninja turtle, enjoying a crazy life to its fullest."

She lightly punched him in the shoulder with a laugh. "You never cease to amaze me, Mike. But really, how's things been going?"

"Oh, a lot of things these days. Great job, great girl, great life, really. I'm enjoying every bit of it, and things have been well."

She raised a brow. "Things are good with Ashley?"

He gave a small smile before saying, "More than good. I really love her, you know." He sighed. "But enough about me, what about you? Get a boyfriend yet?"

"No, not yet. But when that time comes, I'll let you know."

Mike snickered slightly, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, just to let you know, that special guy's gonna have to pass through me if you get that serious." They both laughed, and sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. It was times like these that Trish loved – just being able to reconnect with a friend, and have _fun_. "Any plans tonight, Trish? We could hang out more if you want…"

Her smile faded as she remembered her lingering promise to John. "Sorry, Mike. I have dinner plans tonight."

"Dinner? As in a date?"

"No!" she immediately responded. She refused to call her plans for tonight a date. It wasn't really anyway, more like payment… "I'm just meeting up with someone to catch up." She wished.

"Aw, burn. I thought we might have fun. Like old times." He sighed. "Oh well, I guess we can catch up some other time. Look, I made plans with Ashley, so I have to split. Call me later?"

"Sure." Those were her last words to him as she watched him walk away towards the city. That cleared her head a little bit. Now she had more to worry about; reality, was what she had to face. She sighed. This would be a long day.

* * *

**A/N**: You all know the drill. Send in your review, I hope you liked this chapter! I'll update very soon, so watch out! 


	6. Price Or Payment

**Strictly Business**

Rating: T

Genre: General/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE Superstars in this fiction. They own themselves and are under World Wrestling Entertainment franchise.

Summary: John Cena, respected champion, is ordered by a rather agonized McMahon to follow women's champion Trish Stratus in pursuits of rehabilitation for her wayward behavior. Will this deal prove to be strictly business, or will John find his way into a blonde bombshell's heart on the way? Trish/Cena fic, please R&R!

**A/N**: Heh, I don't know where to begin. A three year wait for a chapter update is a bit ridiculous to apologize for, huh? I hate leaving things unfinished though, and I absolutely couldn't just leave it hanging where I did in the previous chapter. Better late than never? Just know that I _will_, in fact, be updating this from time to time (and I don't mean years, silly, weeks more likely), so don't stop reading! And we all know how I just adore that magic review button... once again, don't be afraid to share your thoughts!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Price Or Payment **

She didn't know where in the world these butterflies had come from.

"Calm, cool, collected..." Trish quietly chanted as she paced the length of her miniscule hotel room. Somehow she'd managed to avoid the racing nerves for a good portion of the afternoon. A stellar achievement; all things considered, after all, she had managed to crash a car that very morning. Wouldn't that be enough to drive any sane person to their breaking point?

_Oh, but I'm nowhere near sane_, she thought. She'd been thinking through the events of the morning incessantly - not even a long jog could distract Trish from her overbearing thoughts. But everything had happened so fast. Too fast.

So fast, just as it had been years ago...

"No!" she yelled, the sudden memory catching her off guard, draining the color from her cheeks. Trish sunk down against the nearby bed, clutching her abdomen as she tried to steady her breathing. She'd learned to lock away the pain that still lingered long ago. She _had _to learn to lock the pain away. It was all a matter of keeping herself intact. Oh, but it hurt. It still hurt...

A distant memory echoed in her mind.

_"Sweet baby, we'll never be able to get any rest if you keep screaming in your sleep."_

_"They're nightmares, mommy. I can't help it." She felt the warm tears begin their descent. "I can't help it!"_

_The woman gently rubbed her daughter's back, wincing as she felt the first sobs start. "Shh. I know..." This would be hard for the both of them - she'd anticipated that. But what could she possibly do? The past was the past; nothing could ever change what had already occured._

_She hugged Trish harder, as if an embrace could take some of the pain away. She would have to be strong; there was no possible way her daughter could ever thrive again without her own mother's strength. "You wanna know something, Trish?"_

_"What?" she softly responded after a minute of uncontrolled hiccups among her tears._

_"When I was a little girl, my mama would always hum me a lullaby whenever I was scared." She paused for the slightest second before humming a tune that was foreign to Trish. The low timbre of her mother's voice was soothing and light, as if it could float among the soft clouds. Beautiful, she'd always thought. With a slow sigh, Trish closed her eyes, comforted momentarily by her mother's quiet lullaby, but also terrified as to what dreams were lurking behind the darkness of sleep..._

Trish shook her head and sighed. To her credit, she'd successfully stopped the tears from falling before she completely lost it - a task that, under different circumstances, would have proved extremely difficult.

Her eyes snapped open as she heard the gentle rapping on the door. "Damn," she muttered under her breath while finally standing up. In her moment of weakness, she'd completely forgotten her date with John. _Date? Where the heck did I get that idea from?_

_But is this a date? _Trish thought as she stole a quick glance from the large mirror on the wall. Sure she'd agreed to his offer earlier this morning, but she'd only thought it one of the few things she could do for him in return for crashing his rental that morning... but a date?

* * *

John tapped on the door once, running his hand through his longer-than-usual hair (which he had sense to gel back today), then checking his watch. God, why was he feeling so anxious right now? He'd managed to calmly address and take care of the rental car situation earlier - his many connections had allowed for a less painful reimbursement process than he had initially expected.

However, the hours taken in preparation for this very moment had left him restless, for some reason. These weren't jitters, were they? _Hell no_, he thought. _Men like me don't have jitters_.

But then again, why did he feel as if he were walking on the moon right now?

The door of the hotel room opened, John stepping back to allow Trish to come into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She looked stunning, he thought, taking in her blue jeans and fitted rose blouse. The light played with her hair, giving it the most beautiful shine. His heartrate hadn't slowed in the least bit, instead quickening in response to her. _Calm down, buddy, you can do this. _John gazed upon her face, immediately recognizing the hint of distress in her eyes.

"Hey, Trish." He paused, "Are you, uh, okay? You sure you're up for dinner still?"

She gave him a blank, wondering stare before replying, "I'm just peachy." That earned her a tiny grin. "Let's go."

* * *

The fifteen minute car ride had been just short of awkward. She'd all but hoped her occasional "oh's", "uh-huh's", and "really?'s" would suffice with John, who had easily chatted about the weather in San Francisco and whatnot, but she couldn't help but sense as if he was wary in some way. Sure, he had all the reason to. Look at all the trouble she'd put him through already in the past two days alone. But a man being wary about _her_ for once? A definite first.

She almost sighed in relief as they'd reached their destination: a colorful Italian bistro that just exuded a homey feel from the moment both she and John stepped in side. The distinct smell of garlic made her mouth water; until this moment, she hadn't realized how hungry she had really been.

Within minutes they were seated by a young, redheaded waitress. Trish didn't miss the alluring smile she gave to John just after she'd put down the menus and left. "So I'm guessing you get that a lot, huh?" Trish stated rather than asked. "Let me guess, a whole fan club of pretty girls wanting to throw themselves at you at any moment. Makes me wonder why you're still single."

Her tone had been playful, he noted. But was that the slightest bit of jealousy he heard as well? "I'll, ah, admit I do get that a lot." He grinned, "Why lie to a pretty lady like you?"

Trish rolled her eyes before taking a small sip of water. "Oh puh-leeze."

He chuckled, and she found that she enjoyed the quiet, throaty rumble. If honesty was their agenda tonight, then she may as well be honest with herself - she was attracted to John Cena. She was a living, breathing female, wasn't she? He'd worn a simple blue plaid dress shirt; she could still recognize the hard muscle hidden beneath the fabric...

She nearly choked on her water. _Whoa, Trish, down girl. Way to be calm, cool, and collected._

"You alright there?"

She gave a sheepish grin. He'd noticed. "Yuppers."

"Yuppers? That's a cute one I've never heard before." He smiled, Trish noticing the little dents in his cheeks that came with such a smile.

Trish, in return, smiled as she replied, "Gee whiz, thanks."

"Gee whiz? I'm liking that one too. Keep 'em coming."

The evening continued with this light, easy banter as both ordered and commenced into their Italian cuisine. The pasta warmed Trish's stomach as she ate, all the while savoring the rich flavors of the dish.

She hadn't expected things to go this well at all. Surprisingly enough, she felt as if she was actually having _fun_ for once. _Who'd have known?_, Trish thought. After all, she'd expected awkward - as if this entire dinner was just 'payment' for the car. She raised an eyebrow as she chewed. But was this payment? All things considered, did John feel as if this entire dinner was just his obligation?

"Trish?" John made a cup with his hands, circling his mouth. "Earth to Trish Stratus...?"

She carefully laid down her fork, quietly reprimanding herself for letting her mind wander. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Your family." He smiled another smile that made her heart backflip. "Anything interesting about the Stratuses?"

Trish quickly averted her eyes from John's to her near-empty plate. Family was a touchy subject, indeed. "Uh, nothing glaringly different. Just another ordinary family, I guess." She gave what she hoped was a convincing half-smile as she gazed back at him. "What about you?"

His smile momentarily faded as he looked into her face. _Oh gosh_, she thought. But the grin returned soon after. "We're pretty ordinary too, when it comes down to it. Typical Italian family, what can I say?"

They both quietly laughed. The bistro, full upon their entrance, had now emptied slightly, the dull roar of the initial crowd quieting into a mindless chatter. It was silent between the pair, both quietly holding a gaze. Trish looked into his face, taking in the soft curve of his jaw, feeling the urge to reach out and trace it to his neck...

"I, ah, should probably get you back to the hotel." John said. "Don't want us to be late for that shooting early tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, of course." She nodded in reply, not knowing whether to be annoyed or not at the break in her reverie.

The car ride back was light, easy. They both fell into a confortable silence, following a short review from each about the Italian cuisine. Trish was contented looking out the window, appreciating the bright, bustling night life of San Francisco. Tonight had been fun. Unexpectedly fun, she wondered. John himself had been a wonderful companion. _Unexpected, yet again_, she thought. But that was beside herself. It was all about honesty tonight, right? Trish sighed, knowing she couldn't possibly lie to herself. She liked John Cena...

"We're here," he said, quickly turning into a vacant space and switching off the ignition.

He escorted her into the hotel. Both walked in a comfortable silence to the elevator, a notion that now seemed agreeable as well as natural between the two. Her door was at the very end of the hallway. She felt an inner turmoil that was new for her; a subtle thumping of the heart as the both neared her door. She'd definitely never felt this before. Five steps away... _Oh god, oh god..._

Her heart was racing by the time the pair came to a stop. "432." Trish said breathlessly. "That's me."

She began to reach into her bag and dig for her card when she felt his warm hand catch her wrist, all but staring as he laced their fingers together with such efficiency.

"Trish..." he said in a low voice, not quite a whisper, yet enough to leave her hanging on the quiet, soft sound. "I had a great time tonight."

Her gaze wandered from their intertwined hands to his face. It seemed as though she just became aware of his towering height, and how her face had to tilt ever so slightly in order to meet his gaze. His features were gentle in contrast to his huge frame, nevertheless. His eyes were soft. Warm even. This warmth was for her. Only her.

"So did I." Her heart thumped loudly, making Trish wonder if he could hear it beating too. She all but fainted as he reached out with his free hand to cup her cheek, his warm thumb caressing the soft skin by her nose as she felt a blush come on.

His eyes pierced into hers. "You're beautiful."

Two simple words.

Words that made Trish's heart flip completely upside down. Surely, she'd been called beautiful before. Many times. But the drawn out way in which he said those words, the way he held her gaze as if to confirm his words, the way he lightly squeezed her hand, the way she never wanted his warm hand to leave her cheek...

...it felt different. It felt _right_.

They remained staring into each others eyes for what she felt was an eternity. She felt his hand still on her cheek, just for a mere moment, until he closed his eyes and leaned towards her. She sighed and did the same.

His lips were warm, gentle even. His touch was languid and soft, not in the least bit forceful. She felt his hand tilt her face ever so slightly, and he deepened the kiss. Her heart pounded more intensely, but all she could feel was his lips moving slowly against hers. He'd released their once-intertwined hands, instead placing his own on the small of her back, she winding hers carefully around his broad neck.

She reveled in his soft, gentle touch, her eyes still closed as if to savor the feeling even as he slowly pulled away. She sighed again as she opened her eyes, finding John lightly staring at her. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he whispered, "Gee whiz."

With a soft "goodnight" and a final squeeze of the hand, he turned and walked off.

* * *

**A/N**: And that concludes chapter six! I hope this was worth the wait (haha). Now I know you know what I'm going to say next - REVIEW! I'll, repeat, REVIEW! NOW. Check back for an update too!


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